The way back home
by NoahAddict
Summary: They have been apart. They have been hurt. They have changed. And now they slowly get closer again. It's Carby and inlcludes spoilers. - Chapter 4 is up (includes angst, revealations and fuzz). Please read and review!
1. Cuts like a knife

Author's note: This fic includes spoilers. It's a Carby. Please read and review and keep in mind, that English is not my first language!  
  
Chapter 1: CUTS LIKE A KNIFE  
  
I felt their looks, their stares. I felt how they fixated me with their eyes, how they all couldn't stop staring at me, how they all didn't even try or want to stop. How they all waited for me to leave the hospital so that they all could start gossiping about me. But who cares. At least I don't. Why should I? It doesn't have the slightest meaning to me. Everything that once seemed so important and fulfilling, is now gone. Kem headed back to Africa, the baby never got a chance to live, the dream of finally having a family was just swept away by destiny, the cruel almighty destiny, that always seems to rule my life, but never turns to luck. It least not for a long time, luck always seems to run away from me. Once it gets so close, that I think I might be able to grab it, it disappears again.  
  
"Carter, when was the last time you've seen your sponsor?" Who? My sponsor? Well, to be honest, I don't even remember his name. I only met him once. Then I stopped attending the meetings.  
  
"Why should I meet my sponsor?" My thoughts are all chaotic. I can't see straight and have to put together all my concentration skills to stand still. If I weren't that drunk I would be once more shocked of what alcohol can do to you.  
  
"I just wanted to know. You seem a bit..." She stops, her eyes wandering to the floor and then back to my eyes.  
  
"...drunk? Well, that's what the common intention of drinking alcohol is." When did I learn to be so sarcastic. I'm doing pretty well in this knew discipline I have to admit. "But I'm sure I don't have to tell you about the consequences of drinking, of drinking too much, of drinking..." I start, but then I stop and my hand moves to my mouth to keep myself from shouting out more insanities. How could I start hurting someone who wasn't even responsible for my state of mind. How could I start hurting someone, who was just concerned about me?  
  
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm obviously not myself today." I can't even look into her eyes, which leads me to finally turning my back to her. I lean myself against the fridge and lay my head into my hands. My fingers are numb and insensitive, they feel like they were filled with ants, a feeling I usually get from alcohol. "I.... I should", I stumble "I should have never said those words to you. But I don't know what to say or do anymore. I'm stuck in a dead end street with a high wall right in front of me and no light or exit to be seen. Nowhere. And I don't seem to find a way to turn around." Then I suddenly find the strength to turn around. "I'm sorry for having been a hypocrite." I reach out for her shoulder.  
  
"Sometimes we're all hypocrites", she answers, trying to smile and taking a step back from me. I realize, that the time to touch her just as a friend has not come yet. She now seems so mature, so changed, so new to me, that I'm not even sure, if it's still the same person that's standing in front of me. Then I take my jacket and make my snake lined way to the door.  
  
"Stop, Carter..." I pretend not to be able to hear her and open the door. But then she sighs, takes a deep breath and lowers her voice. One can still hear that she used to smoke for a long time in her sometimes rough and deep, but at the same time so tender and smooth voice.  
  
"John.... Wait." I let the door go and close again and keep standing there. If I could, I would never move again, no motivation for anything. "I really want you to see your sponsor!" She emphasizes this sentence as strong as she can and I feel her getting a bit closer. Not too much of course, but at least a tiny little bit.  
  
"Why are you so concerned?" I ask her in a reproaching way. Again she sighs, more deeply than before if that's possible.  
  
"I just think you should." She doesn't even try to explain her concerns. Where do they come from? Does she want to find out, what happened the last few weeks? I highly doubt that. Why should she want to know? I rudely kicked her out of my life one year ago, dumped her in the most ungentle and at the same time clumsy way, one could dump another person, and now she still wants to help me? I don't need help. I just got drunk, just had one or two glasses too much of this expensive 30 years old vine in my Gamma's cellar.  
  
I turn around, but don't risk looking into her eyes. Nervously I play with my watch and scratch my neck. "Look, I'm just a little drunk. Average teenagers are drunk each week and you wouldn't run to them and drag them to one of those boring unnecessary AA meetings. And besides: I once went there because of pain killers, not because of alcohol."  
  
She comes closer. I see her hand coming closer, but then she pulls it back again. "You went through so much during the last few weeks. So much changed and it's not only that you're drunk right now. Everyone in the ER noticed how bad you looked, how tired and exhausted..."  
  
"Oh thanks for that charming compliment", I reply aggressively and glare at her for one second, before I turn away once again.  
  
"John, we are all concerned. And I just thought, that your sponsor would be someone you could openly talk to. It makes things a lot easier, if you have someone to open up to, someone you can trust." She still seems so rational and clear minded. Her words come out of her mouth as if this had always been her inner conviction, natural to her, a simple matter of course. I wonder, if she had taken good acting classes or if this is a clear sign, of a real change. And this from a woman, who once had strong doubts that people could ever really change.  
  
"Do you remember that you used to be my sponsor for some not too irrelevant time?" These words abruptly and unexpectedly make their way out of my mouth. No warning, no chance to take them back.  
  
Now I risk a short look at her and she seems surprised or shocked or whatever... it has been long ago, that I had given up on interpreting her facial expressions. She is a secret, her thoughts are a huge secret to me, to everyone else maybe.  
  
She slowly nods: "Right..." I plan on turning around, on just saying goodbye and walking out of the room, on pretending that I had never said anything. But as I figure out my plans and start turning around, she once again takes a deep breath. "I could do well with some strong coffee now..." she states and then takes her jacket. For one moment she looks into my eyes, then shakes her head and walks to the door. I stare at her and don't realize what she just said. Was this an offer to come with her and have some nice talk? Was she offering me to be my sponsor again? Or was she just trying to find a fast way out of this uncomfortable conversation?  
  
As she takes the door handle, she turns around and smiled: "Come on... or do you want to stand here for the rest of the night? I tell you one thing: The lounge is not the best place to sleep it off... and I'm pretty sure that tomorrow morning you are gonna have a nice hangover."  
  
I try to smile and decide to follow her. Nothing is waiting for me at home anyway. What else would I do? Why not? I shake my head in disbelief about this whole situation as I try to walk on a straight line. I wouldn't pass the walk-on-a -line-alcohol test now. Definitely not.  
  
************************  
  
"I miss the smell of old fat and burgers and fries and burnt coffee and...." She laughs. "Now I'm definitely not making any sense. Could you please be so kind to stop me the next time I'm starting rambling such a crap... Because otherwise people might get the impression, that I'm the drunk one of us." We are sitting in the new eating place they built up instead of good old Doc Magoo's and she seems to revel in memories of the times she had been sitting here. To be honest, I miss this place to. The old red leather benches, the smell, the people... yes especially the people here. Whenever I came around I could be sure to meet someone from work. Someone who wanted to have lunch, or get some coffee, or who just wanted to flee the stress and work, the patients and the colleagues. And then you would make a sarcastic comment and start talking to them. You would have a nice conversation about the hospital, about the latest gossip, about some superficial moment you share or you also had to live through. And then you would laugh and forget about the problems for some seconds, before you go back to work or you take the El home. And maybe you have found a new friend. Often you forget about the person the moment you walk out of the door. But sometimes you don't. And on some very special days you can't stop thinking about this person. On other days you meet all of your friends here to celebrate with them, and even if it is just, that the day is finally over. Or you share the saddest moments with them. That was Doc Magoo's. Good old home of the overworked and the sad and the happy and the stressed and the lost people in the ER. But it has changed. Everything has changed.  
  
"Hey Carter, are you still with me?" She waves at me and grins. I nod. "Small test just to be sure: What day is it?"  
  
I shake my head and smile. "Wednesday." She takes a look at her watch. "Sorry, Carter. Wrong answer. It's already Thursday." "What?" I can't believe that we had already sat here for almost four hours. "One more chance for you. And I recommend you to give the right answer. You know, I have my connections."  
  
"To what?"  
  
"To psychiatry... I did my last rotation there." She laughs about her own joke and then insists on an answer.  
  
"You never asked another question, if I may remind you. But it's Thursday. See? My brain still works. I remember the last information you gave me."  
  
She grins. "Alright. So...." She pretends to be thinking hard about another question. Then she leans forward on the table and grins even more. "So this is a really hard one: What's my name?"  
  
I look at her... no, I stare at her and then try to count, how often she had said my name this evening. But I can't. And then I realize that I had never used her name in the last few hours. When was the last time I could her name? Not too long ago I would have used it in every sentence, would have remembered each time I had said it. But that's over now. I stumble and stutter. I grasp for air. Why? Because I am drunk, that must be the reason. I always get melancholic when the alcohol level in my blood drops. I sigh and then pout. But as I look at her childish expression I have the pout turns into a smile again and easier than anything else I say it: "Abigail Lockhart. Abby."  
  
****************************  
  
"The taxi should be here every minute", she explains and puts her mobile back into her bag.  
  
"Thank you very much." I smile and close the zipper of my jacket.  
  
"You're welcome." She also smiles and then looks down to her feet.  
  
"How are you getting home?" I finally ask to break the silence. She looks away and hesitates for one moment, before she finally gives the answer.  
  
"I called Conan to pick me up..." I questioningly look at her. Conan? Should this name ring a bell? I can't remember this name. Was he a colleague or a family member? Who was he? And what was it that caused this uncomfortable feeling in my stomach?  
  
Again she sighs and seems uncertain about what to say. I know that she knows that I don't know Conan. What? Well once again this evening my thoughts are confusing me. "Should I know him?" I finally ask and try to keep my voice as neutral as possible.  
  
"Yes... no... ye... well, he was the one on the motorcycle who picked me up a few weeks ago... the one you wanted to keep from parking in the ambulance bay."  
  
I finally nod and roll my eyes with a grin on my face. Has it ever been that hard to smile before? I doubt that, but I don't know where this feeling comes from. "Sure, I remember him." Then I wait before I finally recall the fact that were are friends... nothing more and nothing less but friends... so we should be able to stay relaxed when we talk about such topics.  
  
"Is he... are you... I mean, are you two..." Why is this so hard? "Are you two together?"  
  
Now she is the one who rolls her eyes. She grins and looks up into the sky, then she shrugs her shoulders. "To be honest, I don't know what we really are." She notices my confused expression and tries to explain herself: "Well, it's fun with him. We occasionally meet, have some..." she makes a short break and then continues "...fun. But it's nothing serious... at least I think so... there wouldn't be much time for something serious anyway."  
  
I nod and once again bring up my whole power smile. "So he's just someone to sweeten up your free time..." I'm doing everything to keep up the conversation.  
  
She laughs and looks at me. She then throws her hands into the air: "Yes, I think that's how you could describe it."  
  
Suddenly she turns around, as we hear the loud sound of an engine. Within the following second a motorcycle shows up, followed by a taxi.  
  
"That's what I call timing", she comments the situation. Soon the taxi and the biker stop close to us.  
  
"Time to go", I say and look at her, pondering how to say good bye. Which way would be the most appropriate. I could just wave to her, say "bye" and take my seat in the taxi. But then she had done so much for me this evening just by staying and talking with me that this way wouldn't even be close to what I wanted to do to say good bye. We both stand there and at each other for some seconds, we are frozen to these spots and can't move. At least I can't.  
  
Then suddenly she is the one to break the ice. She comes closer to me and smiles. "Have a good night, Carter", she whispers before she lays her arms around me and hugs me for one short moment. I'm not sure how to react to this sudden surprising gesture from her. But then I let myself go, I decide to do what just feels right and shortly press her against myself. Then I loosen it again and look into her eyes.  
  
"Thank you for spending some time with me", I whisper and then take back my arms. I wave to Conan and watch her as she gives him a slight kiss on the cheek and then takes her place behind him. "Take care", I want to shout. But instead it rather comes out as a murmur and they drive away without taking notice of it.  
  
Then I climb into the taxi. The driver looks at me and waits for me to tell him the address. "Going home?" He then asks. I look out of the window and deeply sigh. Not really, I want to answer. It doesn't feel like home there. Just a place to sleep and store my stuff. "Yes" I say to avoid any more questions. It's one a.m. and the only thing I need now is sleep. I keep on looking out of the window, taking a deep breath. I don't mind the silence now. But it seems as if the driver does. He turns on the radio and for the last few miles of our way I do nothing but listening to the music.  
  
"And here is the song for those who feel alone or lost or hurt outside in their cars or at home and who just can't sleep", the radio host announces the next song... "But keep in mind: You're never completely alone."  
  
Drivin' home this evening  
I coulda sworn we had it all worked out  
You had this boy believin'  
Way beyond the shadow of a doubt  
  
I heard it on the street  
I heard you mighta found somebody new  
Well who is he baby - who is he  
And tell me what he means to you  
  
I took it all for granted  
But how was I to know  
That you'd be letting go  
  
Now it cuts like a knife  
But it feels so right  
It cuts like a knife  
But it feels so right  
  
There's times I've 'bin mistaken  
There's times I thought I'd 'bin misunderstood  
So wait a minute darlin'  
Can't you see we did the best we could  
  
This would be the first time  
Things have gone astray  
Now you've thrown it all away  
  
Now it cuts like a knife  
But it feels so right  
It cuts like a knife  
But it feels so right 


	2. Crime of the Century

Once again: Author's Note: This is my first attempt in English. I'm not a native speaker so please be patient, if some grammar or some words are wrong, or if there would be better ways to express something. I just wanted to share my ideas with a larger audience. So please read it and review. I would really like to know what you think about it.  
  
*********************  
  
I was into bein' out on my own  
  
I could take love or leave it alone  
  
That's how you get when you're hurt to the bone  
  
One too many times  
  
*********************  
  
3.05 a.m. and I still can't make out any chance to fall asleep. I've been lying awake for almost one hour now and stare at the ceiling, which is originally white but now appears in a blue tone. It's dark in the room, the only light, that falls in, comes from the street. Every once in a while a car passes the houses and lightens up the room before it gets darker again.  
  
Thank you for spending some time with me... I can't ban his words from my head. They keep flowing and flowing through my thoughts. I see him smiling and grinning, I see him in front of me taking a sip of his coffee before he once again lets his eyes wander around and looks through the window. His eyes are red, he is pale and his hair is longer than usual. I can see him trying to make a joke, trying to hide his actual feelings. I can see him right in front of me, but too far away to reach out for him, too far away not in a physical way, but in a mental way. I wanted to take his hand, console him, show him, that he was not alone. But I couldn't and I know that he wouldn't have let me do that anyway.  
  
Some days ago I would have never imagined that we could be in such a situation again. And although I am still hurt by all he had done to me, I know that he... that no one deservesd to live through something like that. He is deeply hurt, he is destroyed in his inner self, he is lost, he feels alone, he needs help, but he is too stubborn to let someone help him. And I'm sure he is still in love.  
  
Kem and Carter, how much had it once hurt to see them together? But I had gotten over that. I soon realized that I was past, and I had made a check sign right next to the common past with him. I had started a new life, taken a new direction and found a new way. Still he meant at least something to me... even if I have to admit, that I don't know yet what this something really is.  
  
I hoped I could count you a as a friend... Every day I think about what he once stated when we stood in the ambulance bay. And I remember the exact feelings that rose in me, when he said that. I remember on the one hand that I longed for nothing more than being his friend again, but on the other hand I suddenly felt uncomfortable, dissatisfied with that. And up to now I haven't really found out why.  
  
Suddenly I'm torn out of my thoughts by Conan's snoring. He is lying right next to me and enjoying a deep and comfortable sleep in my bed. He has put his arm on my stomach.  
  
Conan... who is he? What is he to me? Someone to sweeten up your free time... Had Carter really found the right description? I remember how he rolled his eyes and tried to pretend that he didn't really care about it. And maybe he didn't. In his situation I'm pretty sure there are more important things to him. But I wonder why I cared so much to find the right definition for this relationship.  
  
I'd settle for some irregular sex... I weigh my own words against Carter's definition and realize that Conan is probably nothing more that a comfortable opportunity I had taken.  
  
I met him in a dark and smoky bar near the hospital where Lester and Morris had once taken me. The only time I had ever let them convince me to go out with them. And then this one evening I had decided that if those two young guys had nothing else in their mind than getting drunk after work, I should at least get some profit out of babysitting them. And right the moment I had thought about that, Conan stood behind me and ordered a beer.  
  
I sigh and take a deep breath. Then I cautiously try to take away his hand from my stomach to get some freedom. He doesn't even seem to wake up so I decide to get up and drink a glass of water, maybe smoke a cigarette.  
  
When was the last time I smoked a cigarette? Right... that was after lunch. Then the ER was completely crowded. I had to do doctor's and nurses' work at the same time because hospital politicians had cut down another two nurses. And at the end of my shift I sat together with Carter. And no single second the thought of taking out a cigarette had come up. I was too busy making jokes, trying to reassure and help him. My addiction couldn't catch me. It was blown away.  
  
Now there is this unbearable silence in my apartment interrupted from time to time by my liaison's snoring. Or what ever he is... I have to fill it, I have to get up and do something about this overwhelming thoughts and this unstoppable pondering.  
  
I slowly creep out of the bedroom right into the kitchen, where I find my bag and dig for my cigarettes. I slowly take them out and as usual strong doubts overcome me, but I can't stand the emptiness around me, so I light a cigarette and deeply inhale the smoke.  
  
****************************  
  
I had this heart of mine locked away  
  
I kept my guard up night an' day  
  
I had enough of the games they play Out there on the line...  
  
It was the crime of the century  
  
****************************  
  
I sit down on the sofa and look out of the window. The living room appears in a mixture of blue and orange light that has his origin on the street and is colored by the curtains. These old curtains with the small butterflies on them. I don't know no why I still hang them up, why I still use them. They only remind me of lonely nights, of nights when I cried, of hours when I wanted to destroy everything that stood in my way, of nights when I was hurt and filled with anger, of nights when I couldn't bear being alone. And most of all they remind me of nights when I longed for him, when I was afraid of what could happen to him in the jungle and of nights when I found myself guilty of everything.  
  
Suddenly I shake my head and try to put away these thoughts. It's over. It's the past. I've built up a completely new life. Abby Lockhart, stop this! I warn myself.  
  
Dr. Abby Lockhart... in the next moment I realize that I finally got what I always wanted. I got this M.D. I finished my studies successfully and can now work as a doctor. I'm an intern. I definitely have my skills and I'm able to prove them each they. People show more respect, they have faith in me, they trust me. And more than anything else I finally reached I point where I can trust myself, where I have faith in myself.  
  
***************************  
  
You played Robin Hood an' rescued me  
  
Ali Baba an' the Forty Thieves  
  
Ain't got nothin' on you  
  
You came on like Jesse James  
  
You stole my heart like you were robbin' trains  
  
I'm gonna lock you up for life with me  
  
It was the crime of the century  
  
****************************  
  
For a long time it always took someone else to put self-esteem, self- confidence into little Abby. And even after the most convincing and reassuring arguments I still had doubts about myself, I still thought that I was damned to lose, damned to care for other people, damned to never really be loved.  
  
But somehow things change, somehow I now know, that I am responsible for my life. I know that I can change the direction where destiny wants to lead me. I can have an influence and I am worth to be loved by someone. I only need to take the chances life offers.  
  
I have to admit that it took a lot to bring me to this conclusion. A lot of time and a lot of discussions with various people. And I know, that there is one person who really finally was totally responsible for my change. It was him. Once again it was him, who led me to this revolutionary change of myself. John Carter.  
  
How often had he tried to show me that he was there for me? How often had he told me that I could trust in him? Well, one day he left me and dumped me with a letter. Very "nice" way to drop someone, but in I way I should be thankful for that. Because it was his letter, his flight from me, from County, from Chicago, that brought me to the conclusion that I shouldn't just wait for something bad to come. I should take my life into my hands and change it.  
  
I want you to stop being so afraid, I want us to stop being so careful... How often had I repeated those words in my mind. And even if this was one of the last real conversations we had... to be honest, I don't think we ever really had conversations... we understood each other just by looking into each others eyes, but we were cowards and never really literally opened up to each other. He did, he tried, I didn't.  
  
Well, whatever. Fact is, that I changed. He wanted to save me, to rescue me. And even if he never knew, but he was the only person in my life, I ever really trusted. He was the only one I ever really had faith in. And when he left me... which I have to admit, wasn't only his fault.... I realized that I needed to change something. I desperately needed to reach another step, another more faithful level. Some level that would make my life better.  
  
********************************  
  
You stacked the deck, you didn't gamble at all  
  
You knew exactly how the cards would fall  
  
You bet your heart, but as I recall  
  
I didn't even stand a chance  
  
I bet you had an ace up your sleeve  
  
An' here I thought that you were so naive  
  
You took my hand an' made me believe  
  
In love an' real romance...  
  
********************************  
  
Suddenly I hear some noise, I hear the bed cracking and then I hear someone walking through the apartment. I freeze, I stare at the door and then I reach for the book that is lying on the small table right next to the sofa. Then I stand up, turn around and take a few steps. Who is this? Who is in my apartment?  
  
And exactly in the moment I want to hit the person, that is sneaking through my apartment, this person turns on the light and looks into my eyes. It's Conan.  
  
"Hey, Ab... what are you doing? Do you want to knock me out?" Conan comes closer, smiles and puts his arm around me. "Oh Baby, that would have been so much easier when I was been asleep."  
  
I stare at him in disbelief. What did I think would happen? I knew that he was in my bedroom, that he was here.  
  
I free myself from his hands and turn away. Then I walk to the window and look out of the window. "Sorry, I don't know what... what got into me?"  
  
"You thought I was a stranger... someone who wanted to attack or rob you?" He lets out a loud laughter and then I feel him coming closer again. He is a stranger, isn't he? I don't know anything about him. I know that he loves his motorcycle, that his name is Conan... I barely remember his last name... and I know that we met a few times to have fun. Yes, I could call him a stranger... and that without any bad conscience. It's easily said. A stranger.  
  
Once again I push him away and shake my head. "Look, I don't know, I'm probably just too tired." Then I walk to the refrigerator and open eat. I take out the huge box of chocolate ice cream and take a spoon out of the drawer.  
  
"Chocolate ice cream at 4 a.m.?" Conan grins. He won't let me go. He comes closer, blinks his eyes and opens his mouth. "I love ice cream."  
  
And there's one quality he has: He makes me laugh. Although I often ask myself what I'm doing here with him, why I'm doing this, I am glad to have someone to lean against, to laugh with. And then I just let myself fall against his broad shoulders and I forget about everything else. It's not his face that it is on my mind then. It's a very familiar face I see in front of me. And although I haven't found out... or better: although I haven't admitted yet, who this face belongs to, it makes me feel better.  
  
I laugh and then let him try some ice cream. "mmmmmmm...." He grins and then moistens his lips with his tongue. He comes closer, puts his arms around me, leans against me and then slowly makes his way to my neck. He kisses my neck, then my ears, my cheeks and finally reaches my mouth.  
  
I doubtfully look at him but can't help to grin. "What is this going to be?" I ask him and look into his eyes.  
  
"Well, baby, now that I had two hours of poor, deep and refreshing sleep in your cosy bed with such a good looking woman lying next to me... now I'm ready for another round." Then he pulls me closer to him .  
  
I roll my eyes and look away. "You are crazy..." I say. "I know..." He answers. "That's why it is so much fun with me and why we work so well together." You have no idea, I suddenly think and can't help but wonder about these thought. This relationship is so different from usual relationships, neither in a good nor in a bad way. It's just different. It's not even a real relationship.  
  
"I don't know", I reject his offer and free myself from his hugging. I put the ice cream back into the fridge and make my way back to the bed room.  
  
Suddenly I hear him running up to me. I let a shrill and loud scream come out of my mouth, when he suddenly grabs me and carries me to the bed. Suddenly he lets me fall and I stare at him. Then I have to start laughing and the moment I want to protest I feel his lips pressed against mine. He opens the buttons of my pyjama and tenderly kisses my neck, then my shoulders.  
  
I let him do his round and look at the ceiling as he conquers my body. I here his moaning and I feel his kisses. And as good as it feels to have someone so close, to be with someone, something is missing.  
  
When we have finished it doesn't take long for him to fall asleep and sooner than later his former moaning, his whispers when he calls me "Ab" or "baby"... he is not very creative with such things... these words turn into simple and bare snoring.  
  
I still look at the ceiling and don't seem to fall asleep. Every few seconds I impatiently take a look at my alarm clock. Only two more hours and then I have to get up anyway. Another shift, another day.  
  
************************************  
  
It was the crime of the century  
  
You played Robin Hood an' rescued me  
  
Ali Baba an' the Forty Thieves  
  
Ain't got nothin' on you  
  
You came on like Jesse James  
  
You stole my heart like you were robbin' trains  
  
I'm gonna lock you up for life with me  
  
It was the crime of the century  
  
An' if I live to be a hundred an' one  
  
Honey, don'cha think that it would be fun  
  
To do it all over again...  
  
It was the crime of the century  
  
You played Robin Hood an' rescued me  
  
Ali Baba an' the Forty Thieves  
  
Ain't got nothin' on you  
  
You came on like Jesse James  
  
You stole my heart like you were robbin' trains  
  
I'm gonna lock you up for life with me  
  
It was the crime of the century  
  
I'm gonna lock you up and throw away the key  
  
It was the crime of the century  
  
It was love in the third degree  
  
It was the crime of the century 


	3. Day is done

Author's note: The next chapter is up. I hope you like it. Enjoy reading and please review. So far thank you very much to all of you who have already reviewed. You motivated me to keep on writing this.  
  
When the day is done Down to the earth then sinks the sun Along with everything that was lost and won When the day is done  
  
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"Oh man, those lil' girls outside are freaking me out? Can't they shut their mouths and keep silent for just one little minute? No, they keep shouting and chatting and gossiping. Hey, they're sick man, they should stop doing that and concentrate on getting better. I don't understand those folks... I mean women, they can keep their mouth open the whole day, 24/7." Pratt is running up and down the lounge and talking to him self, or to me. Or he probably just thinks that another man would understand him. But what do I know about women?  
  
In 34 years of my life I never came to a conclusion. They still are a huge locked secret to me and I don't seem to find a solution within the near future. Women don't bring me luck. Or I don't bring them luck. The last few days I rather believed the second was true.  
  
I watch Pratt walking up and down the room, as I try to concentrate on some old patient charts that I left behind. Kerry had warned me to fulfil my responsibilities, to keep up with my job as an attending. And because rumor has it, that work makes you forget your problems, this morning I decided to come in earlier and finish some old work that should have been done weeks ago when I was too occupied caring for Kem and our long awaited... well, so much for that matter.  
  
Suddenly the door opens and Sam rushes in. She walks to her locker, takes out her coat and then runs out through the other door again. Her expression was an angry one and I start wondering what this was about. But then Pratt continues his monologue and has now reached the point, where he not only talks about women, he is talking about all the people out there that annoy him. Frank who is back, Kerry who wants him to be more serious, Chen who doesn't pay enough attention to him, med students who don't work as fast as he would like them to, patients who surprisingly come here to ask for help and so on... his list could be endless.  
  
"You know what?" I finally shout out and as I realize how much I raised my voice I lower it again. "I need to work here. And you're not only disturbing me... worse, you're causing me head ache." As I still shout at him aggressively, I don't realize that Luka just walked in and observed my whole inappropriate and exaggerated behaviour.  
  
"hey, keep cool, man", Pratt raises his hands and then turns around to leave the room. Through the small window I can see him shaking his head.  
  
"Everything ok", Luka finally breaks the uncomfortable silence. He walks to the fridge and takes out some bottled water.  
  
I nod and lay down my pen. To be honest, I'm pretty sure that it wasn't Pratt who caused my head ache... it's probably still the vine. Taking a deep breath I lean back and with my right hand I rub my face, while my left hand wanders back into my neck, so that I have something to lean against.  
  
Luka turns around and smiles. "Are you still hung over? I could offer you some aspirin."  
  
I take a look at my watch and shake my head. "No." Then I look at him and shyly grin. "Was it that bad?"  
  
Luka shakes his head and returns my grin. "No... not THAT bad..." Then he walks up to me, leans on the table and now his face and his voice become more serious: "But if you need someone to talk to, you know where you can find me."  
  
"Yes... thank you", I reply. But it's not that I really feel like talking to someone. I don't have anything to talk about right now. Things are clear. And I only long for some routine to forget about the last few weeks. There's no reason why I should stir those feelings again. They should stay where they are. Buried in the depth of my mind.  
  
Then Luka straightens up again. "By the way: Have you seen Sam anywhere?"  
  
I point at the door: "She rushed out of the room a few seconds before you entered." Luka thankfully nods. Then he leaves me alone.  
  
**************************  
  
When the day is up Hope so much your race will all be run Then you find you jump the gun Have to go back where you began When the day is done  
  
**************************  
  
A few minutes later I still struggle to regain some of my concentration skills. But whatever I do, it just doesn't work, so I close the file and put away my pen. For a few seconds I lean back and close my eyes.  
  
But as usual, I can't stand the pictures that show up in front of my eyes. They are a huge weird mixture of what's going through my head right now. I see patients in the waiting room at County, then I see patients lying on the ground in an old waiting area at an hospital in the Congo, I see the old mansion with the large rooms and all the memories I have, I see the new house that hasn't become a home to me so far and probably never will, I see Kem when I first meet her and later when we already know each other, I see Debbie getting jealous, I see Angelique grinning and raising rumors, and I see....  
  
Suddenly the door opens with a bang and I open my eyes. "Hey Carter. Get on your feet, we need you outside. MVA coming in." ... and I see Abby standing right in front of me, out of breath.  
  
For one second I stare at her, before I realize why she came in. I jump up and follow her to the ER that I have hardly ever seen so crowded. The waiting area is full of patients. The triage nurse is rotating because of the long queue behind the window.  
  
"Why didn't you call me earlier?" I ask Abby, but she doesn't look at me. She hands me one of those yellow plastic coats and some glasses. Then she takes a deep breath.  
  
"Your shift just started five minutes ago and I thought that you might be glad about some extra time..." she replies and then leaves the admin area to walk out to the ambulance bay.  
  
I follow her and watch her as she takes her steps as if she had never done anything else, so natural, so... good. One wouldn't know that she is an intern. She definitely knows what to do and how to do it. She seems self- conscious. She seems changed. And once again I realize that this is not the Abby I had stored in my mind, this is not how I remember her.  
  
As we arrive Abby turns her back to me and looks at me over her shoulder. "Would you...?" I help her close her coat and then turn around. "Thank you", she answers and then ties the ends of my coat.  
  
I thankfully nod and then turn towards the approach of the ambulance bay. As we stand next to each other I risk a glance at her and then turn away again. I sigh. "Thank you again for calling the taxi and for letting me talk to someone", I finally say. "That was really generous and nice of you... but..." I don't know how to express what I want to see. I feel insecure and I am not sure if she will understand what I mean.  
  
"But?" She asks and now directly looks at me. I feel her eyes fixating me, but can't look into her eyes right now.  
  
"But... you don't need to care so much for me. It's okay. I can manage that alone. I can do without help." And now I suddenly fear that the last sentence might have sounded rude. "Sorry... look, what I want to say is just, that I don't want you to care too much about me."  
  
Abby turns away and takes a deep breath. "But I did."  
  
"Yes... and I really appreciate that... but..." I don't know how to put it correctly. I feel relieved as I see the ambulance approaching. Abby takes a few steps to get closer to the car.  
  
Before the car stops and the door is pushed open, Abby says a few words I barely understand because of the noise, but after a tenth of a second I realize that she only repeated what I once said to her: "I hoped, I could count you as a friend." Then the door opens and while I'm still staring at her, we are told, how bad the patient's condition is and what exactly happened to him. So back to work, back to that routine.  
  
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When the night is cold Some get by but some get old Just to show that life's not made of gold When the night is cold  
  
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"Damn it", I hear Kerry swearing as I walk to admin, to dispo my last patient of the day. I look at Jerry who shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes. "Beware of the dog", he warns me and grins.  
  
I smile, but within the next second the smile fades and I hide behind the screen of the computer. "Jerry, just keep your mouth shut and do your work", Kerry shouts at him and then turns back to the board.  
  
Suddenly the phone rings and Jerry questioningly looks at Kerry who impatiently turns around. "Jerry, your job is to answer phone calls."  
  
"So I'm allowed to speak again?" he asks and gives her his most innocent look.  
  
As Jerry takes the phone call, I approach Kerry to ask her, what is wrong. "Hey, Kerry. Can I help you." Kerry looks at me and lets her glasses slip down her nose.  
  
"Any plans for tomorrow, Carter?" I shake my head.  
  
"So then I finally have an attending. It's a 24 hours shift, starting tomorrow at seven and ending, guess what, 24 hours later." She writes my name on her paper as I take a look on my watch.  
  
"A double shift for an attending?" I try to think about the last time I heard about an attending doing a double shift more or less deliberately, without any disasters or huge accidents involving many people, without situations where you just couldn't leave the hospital.  
  
"Why not?" Kerry glances at me and then turns away. "Carter, I gave you so much time off whenever you wanted it, so it's now on you to do me a favor, don't you think so?"  
  
I slowly nod and try to figure out, what I needed this time for. Sure, when I asked her to get another load of free days, I was so convinced, that flying back to Africa would guarantee luck and happiness, that spending my time with a woman I love would be worth it, only to realize some weeks later, that this wasn't enough. What was I supposed to do to prove my love? Why didn't she understand how much I needed her? I would have done anything.  
  
Now that I stand there once again pondering over these heavy thoughts, Kerry walks away. I turn around and walk to the lounge to get my bag and my jacket to go home... where ever home is.  
  
As much as I was astonished about the way Kerry treated me a few minutes ago... now I am relieved to have something to do, to have plans. There is nothing left here for me but my work. This is where I can forget about everything; this is where it feels at least sometimes like home. And this where I can come and talk to people, this is the place that has changed the least.  
  
The door opens and I take my steps out of the hospital. Outside I stop and grasp for some fresh air. Now that the sun has disappeared, the heat also lessens and a slight and cooling wind blows into my face.  
  
Suddenly I hear the doors open behind me and turn my head, to see, who is coming out. "Hey John", Abby whispers with a tender but in the same moment exhausted voice. "Hi..." And now my bad conscience about what I said to her raises again. I still doubt, that she really understood, what I wanted to say.  
  
"Everything alright?" Abby asks and comes closer. She hides her hands in the pockets of her jacket. Her hair is open and moved by the wind. She looks tired.  
  
I nod and then look away. "Good", Abby answers and then starts walking away. "Good night, Carter" she says as she turns her head again and waves to me.  
  
"Good night", I answer, drowned in my thoughts and not able to move or to say anything.  
  
But then suddenly I raise my hand and shout out her name. "Abby, wait."  
  
She turns around and smiles at me. She gives me an interested and questioning look.  
  
But I can't talk. My mouth is closed and I can't figure out what to say to her, until she makes a forwarding move with her hand and asks me, what I wanted to say.  
  
I stumble and scratch my neck, but still keep standing on the same spot. "Look, I didn't want to be... rude or", I search for the right words "... or ungrateful today. I really am thankful for what you did for me last night. And I wanted you to know that. I wanted you to understand, to make clear what I really wanted to say. Just a simple thank you."  
  
Abby smiles and then nods. "Okay, Carter." Then she waits for some seconds and I feel her looking at me, as I am staring at the ground. I slowly raise my head. Why am I too much of a coward to look at her? Then our eyes meet and now I feel the corners of my mouth turning into a smile. For some seconds our eyes are locked.  
  
"Good night", she finally repeats and turns around. I watch her walking away and wait until she disappears behind the next corner. Then I am finally able to move my feet and walk to my car. I kick away a stone that's lying in front of me and can't help but wonder about my behaviour.  
  
***************************  
  
When the bird has flown You got no one to call your own You got no place to call your home When the bird has flown  
  
When the game's been fought You speed the ball across the court Lost so much sooner than you would have thought Now the games been fought  
  
When the party is through It seems so very sad for you Didn't do the things you meant to do Now there's no time to start anew Now the party's through  
  
The day is done Down to earth then sinks the sun Along with everything that was lost and won When the day is done 


	4. There is your trouble

Enjoy reading and please review!  
  
Chapter 4: There is your trouble  
  
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Should've been different, but it wasn't different was it Same old story and Dear John and so long It should have fit like a glove It should've fit like a ring, like a diamond ring A token of a true love Should've all worked out but it didn't She should be here now but she isn't  
  
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"Abby, would you mind to stay here for two more hours?" Luka walked up to me, as I tried to get out of the hospital as soon as possible. I was tired. I was exhausted. I needed some sleep and silence.  
  
"Yes", I answer as directly and clearly as possible. Then I shake my head, because I realize that the answer sounded rude. "Sorry, Luka, but I really need to go home."  
  
He comes closer to talk to me. It seems as if he makes attempts to convince me to stay here, but no, not now. I'm stubborn now. I want to leave. I really need to. I wouldn't be much help anyway.  
  
"Anything wrong, Abby?" I shake my head. "No, nothing. Really. I'm just tired. Really tired." I emphasize these last few words to make it clear to him.  
  
"Abby, please. It's just two more hours. Kerry asked me to run the ER this week. I need to find doctors and with Susan on maternity leave we already miss one attending. And now Neela called in sick."  
  
I really feel for Luka. It isn't easy to run this chaotic place. But it isn't easy to work intern shifts either. "Look, I'd really like to help you out. But I'm tired. I just finished a double shift. And I'm on again tomorrow at seven. So please let me get some sleep."  
  
Suddenly I feel bad for leaving him alone with these things. But is it my problem to always care for other people? Everybody else would have already turned his back to him and gone home. But I am still standing here and listening to him. And he knows that with his deep dark eyes and his smile he can convince me to stay.  
  
But now surprisingly he turns away and waves to me. "You are right Abby. Go home. Get some sleep. And have a good night."  
  
I don't hear any kind of angriness or disappointment in his voice. I stare at him for a few seconds and then finally walk out of the ER. I really feel exhausted. My feet hurt. And each step my legs seem to get heavier.  
  
But then I am still too awake to go to bed. Because of all the things I had to do, because of all the patients I had to treat pictures are still rushing through my head. I still hear the cute little boy who lost his mother. I still see the gun shot victim we had to treat this afternoon. He was only 16 years old and already involved in a shooting.  
  
I keep walking and walking and suddenly reach a familiar path, I used to take in former times. I haven't been walking there for at least one year. It's the sidewalk that leads to the river.  
  
Enjoying the warm wind and the atmosphere I follow the path. Young families are passing by with children who are laughing. Young couples are taking a walk after a long day of work to spend some time together. Old people sit on the benches next to the river and talk. Everyone enjoys the warm air of a late August evening.  
  
Suddenly as I reach the most familiar place at the river, I see someone standing under the bridge. He leans against the parapet and looks at the river. His back is round and his shoulders seem sunk in. His head is lying in one of his hands.  
  
I decide not to stop myself from walking along the river just because of a stranger standing there. But as I come closer, I notice his confused brown hear, the brown familiar bag standing next to him on the ground and the light brown jacket.  
  
Then, just a few steps before I pass him, this person that looks so familiar, notices my steps and turns around. And now I drown in his brown eyes. He gives me a smile, a sad smile though. He has got folds on his forehead and looks tired. Suddenly I see some smoke rising from his hand. I stare at his left hand and can't believe what he is holding there. It's a cigarette. He, the one person who always wanted to stop me from smoking, is holding a cigarette. And I am pretty sure that he doesn't only hold it. He smokes it.  
  
As I realize that I am staring at him, I shake my head and again look into his eyes. "John, hi", I say still surprised, but pretend that I am not caring about this old and new bad habit of him.  
  
"Hi", he answers with a rough and husky voice. And I notice that I am not the only one who is surprised.  
  
So we keep standing still for a few seconds until he opens his mouth and makes an attempt to break the silence. "So you're a going for a walk?"  
  
I nod. "Yes." I wait for a moment and then decide to give a real answer to follow his attempt of starting a conversation. "Well, I just finished work and felt like I needed some fresh air, you know, I'm sure I won't be able sleep otherwise."  
  
He nods and his hand wanders to his neck. He scratches it, closes his eyes and then opens them again taking a deep breath. I watch every move he is making.  
  
"And you?" I finally feel obliged to ask. No, of course, it's not only obligation, it's also politeness and friendliness. And some inner force that won't let me go home. An inner power, that wouldn't let me move.  
  
Again he sighs and then turns around to lean against the parapet again. I slowly follow him and lean against it, too, keeping some distance between the side of my body touching the metal. I look at him until he finally answers.  
  
"I needed some fresh air." He says shortly and then turns his head away. Although he seems to have stopped and although one usually would get the impression, that this was all he had to say, I don't move and don't say anything. I hope for something more to come out of him. I feel a chance, that he might say more if I just give him the time to do so.  
  
He lowers his head, steps from one foot to the other and looks down to the river. Then he opens his mouth, trying to speak, but again he shuts it and shakes his head.  
  
"What?" I finally push myself to ask.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Come on, what is it? Why did you need some fresh air?" I ask him and this feels completely new to me. I never pushed someone to talk. I always thought they should open up if and when they wanted to. And then people ran away without ever giving me an answer to my million questions. And then I blamed myself for it? That I was too much of a coward, that they just didn't want to talk to me, that I was just not trustworthy... I always found myself guilty.  
  
"I couldn't stay in this house any more."  
  
"In your grandmother's mansion?" Maybe he feels reminded of her again.  
  
"No, in the new house." I don't understand what he is talking about. A new house? John Carter buying a house for himself? The man who always lived in a small apartment to pretend being like everybody else?  
  
"The house I bought for Kem and me and our... son." He swallows and presses his hands against each other." Now I know what this is all about. How could I forget? Of course it was about her.  
  
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There's your trouble, There's your trouble Keep seein' double with the wrong one And you can see I love you You can't see she doesn't But you just keep holding on There's your trouble  
  
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And I don't know what to say. As always when this topic comes up, I'm stunned. I'm frozen. And I am not able to give him an advice or to really help him. At least I can't do this with an inner conviction. As hard as I try I always feel this resistance. Why should this bother me? It's his life. It was his choice, she was his choice. This life was his choice. And then I always come to the same conclusion. His choice was to be happy. He pursued happiness and he thought that he had found it. That's simply human. But he never wanted it to end like this.  
  
And now that everything has collapsed, the only thing he needs is some friends. And again I ask myself why I should care about it? I have my own life and one year ago he didn't care much either. And then I recall the years before that... when we were really good friends, occasionally best friends, and often more than friends. And that's the point where I know, that it's my duty to help him. Because there's the sweet memory of our friendship and this deep gratitude rooted in the past when he stood beside me during all my problems. And that's what friends are for.  
  
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So now your thinkin' bout all your missin' How deep your sinkin' Round and round and draggin' down Why don't you cash in your chips Why don't you call it a loss Not such a big loss Chalk it up for better luck  
  
*******************************  
  
"Don't you think you should start letting go?" I carefully ask and lay my head to the side to look into his eyes which he hides behind his hands.  
  
Then he takes his hands away and glances at me before he turns his head away again and takes a deep breath. "That's easier said than done."  
  
"I know", I answer and my hand moves towards his but then I pull it back again and hide it in my jacket. "And everybody needs time to grieve. But one day you should try to find a way to get over this."  
  
"I can't, Abby, I just can't. I go to work and see children, families and they remind me of what I could have now. And when I walk home I pass families who enjoy their life. Look around: There are happy families everywhere. And then I walk home to hide. I close the windows and the blinds, I turn off my phone, I go to bed and try to sleep, but there are always these pictures of what I could have now. I feel lonely, I feel lost. And I blame myself for not having seen the signs earlier. I am a doctor. I should have known that something was wrong. I should have been more careful. And I blame myself for letting her go. I ask myself why she left me. She didn't even want me to come with her. I don't get rid of the feeling that she never wants to see me again. But why? We loved each other. Shouldn't we work this through together?"  
  
I am surprised. I am stunned, that he suddenly opened up. He kept talking and talking and only stopped to grasp for air. And I don't know what to reply. I feel his sadness. He is so desperate and hurt. He is so out of balance and doesn't seem to get out of this alone.  
  
"You know, that there are people who want to help you, do you? They are your friends." And then I find the strength to reach out for his hand and take it. "And so am I. You can talk to me. I understand you."  
  
He looks at me and for one moment he seems relieved. The tension in his hand lowers. But then he tears his hand away, looks somewhere else and turns his back to me.  
  
"You don't understand. Nobody does."  
  
"I do." I lower my voice to make it clear to him. But I can't prevent feeling rejected.  
  
"No you don't." He says with a sharp voice and takes a few steps away from me. Then his voice gets louder and he turns to the river. "Nobody knows what this pain feels like. Nobody knows what I have to live through."  
  
I hesitate for one moment, but then I decide to be honest, to say what I really think.  
  
"I know." And I emphasize these words as much as I can.  
  
"No, you don't. You don't have the slightest idea what it is like to lose a child." He gets more aggressive and now turns to me his arms moving wildly and his finger pointing at me.  
  
"Yes, I do." I answer silently. Although I am hurt and feel more insecure than ever before Idecide to stay stubborn. I want to get through to him.  
  
He keeps shouting as if I had never said anything. But I was most likely just too quiet. My voice was to low.  
  
"You don't know what it is like to know that something is growing, a small human being that is part of you, that carries your heritage and then lose him before you get a chance to see this little thing alive." He keeps shouting, so full of frustration and desperateness.  
  
And I can't stay silent any more. "Yes, I do." I raise my voice and finally shout too. "I know what this feels like. You can believe me. And I also know what it feels like to feel responsible for this loss. And while you where not really responsible, while there is no actual reason why you should blame yourself, I was responsible. I was guilty."  
  
And then we both freeze to the spots where we are standing. We both stare at each other and don't move, we simply can't, we are too surprised by what just happened and it seems as if we could never move again. So much aggression, so much frustration and finally so much truth within just a few seconds. This is a point we never thought we would get to. This is a situation we never considered to come true. This scenario is just so unbelievable and overwhelming. And so unreal.  
  
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There's your trouble, There's your trouble Keep seein' double with the wrong one And you can see I love you You can't see she doesn't But you just keep holding on There's your trouble  
  
***********************************  
  
"You don't know... you don't have the slightest idea.... You... you..." He is back to his shouting mode again, but this time it sounds weird and he is stuttering. And I can't believe what I just said. I have never really felt like that before. I have never been that honest before. And if so, I have never surprised myself that much before. And I can't believe that Carter is simply ignoring this. He gives the impression that he just hasn't listened to me.  
  
He continues shouting, but suddenly his voice lowers. He shakes his head and now looks straight into my eyes. "You... you, what?" He grasps for air and I keep staring at him. My thoughts are a crazy mixture of everything. It's pure chaos up there in my head.  
  
"You were...?" He doesn't seem to find the words. But then he closes his eyes for one short moment: "You were pregnant?"  
  
I look away and pout before I slowly nod. It's so silent now, so quiet between us, that I can hear the wind blowing, I can hear him breathing. He is breathing fast, sometimes stopping for a few seconds.  
  
"When? I mean, was it while...? Was I....?" Now I know that I should answer the question as soon as possible because I understand what he is thinking, what's going through his mind.  
  
"No, no, no..." I shake my head and wave with my hand. "It happened a few years ago."  
  
He nods and I know that he is thinking very hard about what he just heard. He probably never expected something like that from me. Maybe he is disappointed, maybe he doesn't care too much but is just stunned, maybe he can't believe what I just said, maybe he never thought about something like that, maybe he doesn't want to believe it, maybe he tries to figure out my reasons.  
  
It's obvious that his aggression has been blown away. His voice is lower and smoother now, he slowly comes closer and sits down on the wooden bench next to me.  
  
"Did you miscarry?" He now asks, playing with his fingers and looking down to the earth.  
  
He hasn't understood, yet, what I had told him. "No...."  
  
I wait for his reaction and he looks up, but not into my direction but to the river. On his forehead deep folds are engraved, he looks pale and tired and more exhausted then ever before.  
  
"So you had an abortion?" I am surprised how easily he speaks it out. These words come out of his mouth as if they were so natural to him. But I don't get rid of the impression, that his words are at the same time full of disappointment.  
  
I approach him and point at the bench. "May I?" He nods, but still keeps looking away. Then I sit down next to him, one leg drawn in and lying on the bench, so that my body is turned towards him.  
  
I take a deep breath and run my hand over my thigh. This is harder than anything I have ever done before. And this is easier than anything I have ever done before.  
  
"So, yes. I had an abortion a few years ago. At a time, when I was still married to Richard."  
  
Now that he knows about when and what, we keep sitting there. I can't say whether for seconds or for minutes, or for half an hour. It seems as if the time stands still. We both keep looking around but don't dare to move from our places or to look into each others eyes.  
  
Suddenly I notice that Carter turns his head to me. I feel his look and slowly move my head to see his deep brown eyes. Then I raise my hands as if I wanted to excuse myself.  
  
"Why? I mean, I'm sure you had your reasons. But then on the other hand I can't think of a REAL reason." I know that now in his situation it must be hard to imagine someone killing a human being. He can't figure out why one would do that.  
  
I try hard to find the right words. I make up my mind and it takes a few seconds, before I finally speak: "I was scared. I thought that I might pass on my mother's disease. I was afraid, that my child could have the same thing, that I would be responsible for it and to be honest: I was also afraid of going through all of this again." At this time of course I had no idea, that Eric would turn out to be bipolar, too. "This running after someone, this being scared, that something could happen, this fear, that they would stop taking their meds, this fear that one day you would not only have to see your mother but also see your own child suffer, this feeling when you are rejected every time you only try to be there for them and help them. And I couldn't talk about it, to no one, not even Richard.... Of course not to Richard, our marriage was already more of a ruined debacle than anything else. And as much as I wished for a child...." I sigh, before I continue. "I was too afraid of all the other things that would probably be combined with this pleasure."  
  
Carter slowly nods and shrugs his shoulders. I know that in this state of life he wouldn't really accept or understand any reasons I give him. He would take any risk to have a child now, to have his dreams come true. And I am sure it was totally wrong to make this all about my problems. Why would he be interested in things that I did years ago? They are buried in the past, but his present is much more important to him now. It's present.  
  
"How come you never told me?" He suddenly asks and looks at me. I am highly astonished. I never thought that he would ask something like that.  
  
I shake my head. "I don't know... maybe because I never really told anyone. Not on purpose... and I always tried to hide this from my boy friends. But so far children have never been a topic again."  
  
Carter looks at me with huge eyes. I have no idea, what he wants to tell me. His mouth is slightly opened and he seems to grasp for air. Then he turns his head and looks away.  
  
"Do you really think so?" he suddenly asks and once again looks into my eyes. He is keeping his eyes fixed and is obviously waiting for an answer.  
  
"What?" I don't understand what he aims at. What does he want to tell me? What is he trying to express?  
  
"Do really think, that children have never been a topic again? Because then I can prove you wrong." He stops for one moment and now I am slowly getting an idea where this is leading.  
  
He continues speaking. "When we were together, I always thought about having children with you. But I never brought it up, because I knew, that you were too afraid." He seems so cooled down and clear minded now. "I even talked with Maggie about it."  
  
Instantly my facial expression changes and I feel embarrassed and angry at the same moment. "You did what?" I ask him in a shocked way.  
  
And he soon understands, what is going through my mind. That's something he always did. At least he always tried. And he was the one who came closest to my real feelings, the one who almost cracked me.  
  
"No, no, no... I didn't run to her. When I drove her to the airport last year, we talked about my plans to propose and about having a family. And she asked, if we had ever talked about that. That was the moment, when I told her, that I knew, that you were too afraid of passing on. See? I knew what you thought without asking you, without needing an explanation."  
  
I nod and suddenly we share another look and both start smiling. For a few seconds we both remain silent and rejoice in this wonderful, comfortable moment of unity. It's so good to be able to talk to him again. And something tells me, that he is feeling the same.  
  
Then I stand up and dramatically ask him another question, still keeping a smile on my face. "So Mr. Stop-this-bad-habit-it-causes-cancer, what is it with you and that stinking cigarette. Don't tell me you broke your own rules."  
  
He looks down to the ground and then stands up, too. "Well, what can I say? I'm a bad example." He throws his arms up into the air and takes a few steps. I follow him and we keep walking along the river.  
  
"No, honestly: Why did you start smoking again?"  
  
"Why did you?" He asks back. I nod but then give him a strict look.  
  
"Okay, now the truth." He takes a deep breath. "I tried to fill the emptiness... I know, smoking is probably the worst way to do that. But it's hard to stay rational, when you lost everything you had."  
  
******************************  
  
Should have all worked out But it didn't She should be here now But she isn't  
  
*******************************  
  
"You didn't lose everything", I instantly reply and smile at him. "You still have the work you love and your friends who will always be there for you."  
  
I watch Carter taking another few steps. Suddenly he walks faster, he takes the cigarettes out of his jacket and runs to a garbage can. "Sometimes you're just too right, Abby." He looks at me and throws the cigarettes away.  
  
I can't stop myself from laughing. "That's what I wanted to see." And then I follow his model and take out my cigarettes to throw them away, too.  
  
For a few minutes we stand there, laughing and taking our oaths to never start smoking again. Whether we will keep our promises or not, doesn't matter. We just enjoy the moment and forget about everything else.  
  
*******************************  
  
There's your trouble, There's your trouble Keep seein' double with the wrong one And you can see I love you You can't see she doesn't But you just keep holding on There's your trouble, There's your trouble  
  
******************************  
  
After another quarter of an hour spent with walking and talking, with laughing and thinking, with opening up and encouraging each other, we reach the El station close to the hospital. As I want to take the steps up to the tracks, I realize that Carter stopped walking and I turn around.  
  
"Aren't you going home?" I ask and walk downstairs again. Two steps before him I stop. This situation seems so familiar.  
  
He shakes his head. "No, I gotta work. My shift started..." He takes a look at his watch. "... exactly 55 minutes ago."  
  
I give him a surprised look and shake my head. "Oh, Kerry is gonna kill you." I smile but then become earnest again. "Why didn't you say anything?"  
  
He shrugs his shoulders and again I shake my head in disbelief. I guess, we both simply forgot about the time.  
  
Then I suddenly hear the El approaching. "I have to go now." We look into each others eyes and just because it feels right, just because I think he needs it, just because I'm thankful for the last truthful, dramatic and still wonderful hours, just because I feel the strong need to do it, I instantaneously hug him and feel him being surprised for a short moment. But then returns the gesture.  
  
As I hear the train stopping, I turn around and start running. On the last step I turn around once again and wave at him as he is still standing on the same spot and watching me running.  
  
"See you", I shout and only see his mouth moving. I guess, he answered the same. Then I get on the train and make my way home. 


End file.
